


Heat

by KoreArabin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim’s grin couldn’t be broader.  “Oh, <i>Tiger</i>, you are such a darling, twisted little kitten; no wonder you remind me of me,” he purrs, “Want to play?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scoville is for pussies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a collection of bits and pieces that I've written, or am in the process of writing. I find it difficult to work on a piece of writing for any period of time, or even to maintain an interest in it so, rather than sitting on these odds and sods, I'll post them as and when, and probably return to edit them when I have a spare minute.

“What’s all this then?”

Sebastian tips his head to indicate the leather recliner by the window, the seat of which is currently sporting a rather eye-wateringly large black rubber phallic-shaped attachment.

“It’s for you, kitten. I had it ‘modified’ specially. So you can fuck yourself whilst I ride you, and you fuck me. You get a double whammy, and I enjoy humping a Seb sandwich. Don’t I look after you, sweetcheeks?”

“Aw, babe, that’s too adorable. Now get your fucking clothes off and come and sit on my prick.”

-O-

Later, when they’re both sweating and panting and love-bitten, bruised, sore and spent, Jim’s legs _impossibly_ somehow draped over Seb’s shoulders even as he’s impaled on his softening cock, Seb pulls Jim up by the impromptu leash he’s made of Jim’s tie.

“Bloody good move, Boss, fucking good.”

Jim smirks. “I did have an ulterior motive, darling. Think – naughty Sebby, chair, handcuffs, hot sauce? A nice thick gag in case you get too whiny? Getting the picture, kitten?”

Sebastian twists the tie around his fist, eliciting a wet choking sound from Jim. “I’d love to see you try it, fucker. That scenario is far, _far_ more likely to end up – think – chair, handcuffs, sauce _off the fucking Scoville scale_ , little Jimmikins well and truly fucked on his own petard, eh? No ‘in case’ about the gag. Getting the picture, sweetheart? How many yoghurt enemas d’you reckon it’d take before you were able to sit down again?”

Jim’s grin couldn’t be broader. 

“Oh, _Tiger_ , you are such a darling, twisted little kitten; no wonder you remind me of me,” he purrs, “Want to play?”

Sebastian’s eyes are bright with anticipation. “Just tell me when. I’ll take you down, Jimmikins. Oh, _fuck_ , I am going to _enjoy_ this!”

Jim smiles again. “Patience, kitten. I’m sure an opportunity will present itself very soon. All good things come to those who wait.” 

Seb hopes he's not channelling Austin Powers _too_ obviously. It's the effect Jim has on him sometimes. “Oh, _yeah_. Game on, baby!”


	2. Baby-mother

“I come first. You’ll wait.”

Sebastian keens, writhing underneath his lover, one leg hooked over Jim’s shoulder and the other twisted around his waist. Both gleaming with sweat, Sebastian’s throat and chest covered with vivid lovebites, his nipples swollen, suckled hard and purpling.

Jim fucks him steadily, every thrust hitting Sebastian’s prostate, one hand twisted in his sodden hair, the other flat against his straining cock, massaging it in time with his thrusts, pinching hard if Seb appears to be on the edge.

Seb moans, low in his throat. "Fill me, fill me with your come. Make me your baby-mother. Oh, fill me. _Breed_ me."

With a shout, Jim climaxes, jerking hard again and again into his lover as he spills deep inside him, moaning aloud again as Sebastian clenches around his cock as his own orgasm shudders through him.


	3. Even Daddies Need Discipline

"Talk dirty to me, Sebby. Daddy's feeling horny. Daddy wants to rub his cock while Sebby talks filth in Daddy's ear. Can you do that for Daddy, baby?"

Sebastian smiles, leaning back into the soft down pillows on their bed. Fuck, it's a hot day. The doors to the balcony are open, the scents and sounds of a late summer's day in London filtering up to their penthouse apartment, in with the sweltering heat. Jim insisted on having the doors open, rather than using the air conditioning, but then Jim is a cold-blooded little fucker, craving warmth when others are ready to drop from heat exhaustion.

He looks at Jim, stretched out, naked, like himself, the slim, pale body sporting only the slightest sheen of perspiration, whilst Seb is glistening with sweat. It's like a play on the old adage - Jim glows; men perspire; Sebastian sweats. Jim's eyes are closed, and he's running his left hand idly over his body, down from the sparsely-haired chest and rather wide apart nipples, to the dark strip of hair from his navel, to his cock half erect in the nest of soft dark curls at his crotch. 

Jim's other arm is flung back behind his head, resting on the pillow, his normally immaculately coiffured hair product-free, soft and curling around his face. Sebastian often wonders how a man who looks like the epitome of innocent beauty at times of repose like this can be such a cold-hearted, sadistic killer at others. Black panties with an angel's face? Not quite, but somehow it fits Jim.

Jim murmurs. "C'mon, baby. Daddy's waiting."

Seb reaches down to his own cock, as hot and sticky as the rest of him. "Daddy wants to play, does he? OK. I think that Daddy's got a very dirty mind. I bet Daddy thinks all the time about all the nasty things he wants to do to Sebby. I bet Daddy's prick gets all hard imagining filling Sebby's hot, tight, hole up with cock and making Sebby moan and cry, doesn't it? 

Until Daddy's leaking in his trousers and rubbing himself as he makes Sebby take all his clothes off and bend over and hold his hole open for Daddy like a good boy? Punishing Sebby by fucking his hole until Sebby's so sore and begging Daddy to stop? But Daddy doesn't, does he, because naughty Sebby needs to be punished and have a sore bottom to remind him not to be naughty?

But you see, naughty Daddies also need to be punished sometimes. Dirty Daddies like Jimmy _need_ disciplining and _want_ to be taken in hand, by other big strong men, don't they?"

Jim moans slightly, palming his now erect cock. Seb continues, "But Jimmy wouldn't just give himself over to be disciplined, would he? He'd want to fight and struggle and be properly _overpowered_ before he gets punished, wouldn't he? Of course he would."


	4. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 1 of 9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter within a chapter. This is following on from Chapter 4, where Jim asks Seb to talk dirty to him. Seb gets a bit carried away...

You've come in after a long day, and you're pouring yourself a vodka or a glass of wine, when you hear the sound of movement, only very softly, from the hallway. You go out cautiously to explore, assuming it's me, but you can never be too careful, not when you're the world's only consulting criminal. And there I am, kicking my shoes off and putting my keys on the hall table, and you're just about to speak when someone grabs your arms from behind. You see my eyes meet those of whoever's behind you, and I nod. You're manhandled to the floor and cable ties are zipped around your wrists and ankles, as your unknown assailant holds you down with his weight.

I crouch before you; you're virtually spitting blood, cursing and struggling, and I simply pull your head up by your hair, stuff your mouth with a gag, then fasten a hood over your head. Together your unknown assailant and I carry you through to the bedroom and dump you, pretty unceremoniously, I have to say, on the bed.

You're still struggling, utterly furious and totally helpless, when you feel a blade against your wrist. You still momentarily, unsure, but then begin to struggle again violently when you feel the blade slicing up through the arm of your suit. You probably get a few nicks and cuts, here and there, as your clothes are systematically peeled away, until you're left totally naked. The gag and hood only add to your vulnerability and, even through your anger, you flinch when a leather-gloved hand caresses your cock and balls, running a finger around to probe at your arsehole.

Abruptly the hand is gone, and you're forced over on to your front, your knees bent so that the cable ties at your wrists and ankles can be locked together. Before you're left alone, naked, gagged, hooded, and hog-tied, you receive a resounding slap to your arse, which nearly makes you fall off of the bed. "See you later, slut," is the last thing you hear before your unknown assailant and I leave you. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been left lying there. You tried at first to wriggle and squirm your way free of your restraints, or even to get the hood off so that you could at least _see_ what the _fuck_ is going on, but it’s secured somehow around your neck, and the restraints are far too tight and strong for you to escape. The hood is stifling, and your jaw is aching from the gag, and you’re thirsty and starting to feel the niggling of a need to piss.

Time continues to string out. At last you hear something; it sounds like heavy footsteps approaching along the hallway and, although you’re still pissed off as hell and apprehensive, it is something of a relief to know that you’re not just being left there alone indefinitely. You feel the end of the bed dip, and a trousered knee is forced between your naked ones, nudging them apart. Then the leather-gloved hand is back between your legs, pulling at and twisting your balls, making you moan into your gag, rubbing the tip of your cock and pinching your foreskin. You try to pull away, but all you get for your efforts is another hard slap on the arse and a snort of amusement.

“So the little fucker’s still got a lot of fight in him, has he? _Good_. It’ll make this all so much more entertaining.”

The hood is suddenly removed and you blink in surprise. Twisting around, you see me, dressed in my black combats and t-shirt, my hands encased in the shiny leather sniper’s gloves you love so much. Beside me is another man, nearly as tall as me, but slighter and wirier, auburn haired and bearded, bright blue eyes watching you with amusement below auburn brows. “This is Paul,” I say. “Paul is here to help me discipline you, aren’t you, Paul?”

“That’s right Seb. You said your Daddy was getting a little too cocky and needed takin’ down a peg or two. Always ‘appy to ‘elp out an old Army mate.” His voice is rough, with a strong south London accent. He too is clad in black and he sports gloves similar to mine.

“Right then, let’s get him up.” I cut the cable holding you in the hog-tie and together Paul and I manhandle you off of the bed and on to the floor. We arrange you so that you’re on your knees, your face in front of my crotch, Paul holding you in place with a hand on your shoulder and one in your hair. I lean down into your face. 

“Are you going to be a good boy, Jimmy? I’m going to remove your gag, and then you’re going to give me and Paul a nice, long, blow job each. I’m going to want to see you really trying your best to please us, make them really good for us, or I’m going to punish you, OK?” 

I unstrap the gag and immediately you’re swearing at the top of your voice and threatening me and struggling to free yourself from Paul’s grip. Fat chance. I nod to Paul and he tightens the grip on your hair and locks his other arm around your neck, at the same time standing on the cable tie restraining your ankles. You cry out in pain as he effectively stands on the soles of your bare feet, and wrenches at your hair. 

I grasp your jaw and slap you, very hard, twice, across the face. You’re still struggling even though you’re now bleeding from the cut lip I’ve given you, and struggling to speak against the arm locked around your neck.

“I think our Jimmy’s decided to be a naughty boy, Paul,” I say. “But I still want my blow job, so I’m going to have to _make_ him do it.” I grab a ring gag from the dresser and buckle it tightly around your head. The look of surprise and impotent fury on your face is classic.

I maintain eye contact with you all the while I’m unbuttoning my fly, slowly, releasing my rapidly hardening cock and giving it a couple of strokes. 

“You could have had this so much easier, Jimmy. You could have set the pace, built up slowly, but now, instead, you’re going to get facefucked and there’s nothing at all you can do about it."

Paul holds you still as I shove my cock to the hilt straight into your open mouth, hitting the back of your throat, and setting up a punishing rhythm. You gag and cough and struggle, but you’re held fast and all you can do is take it. It doesn’t take me long to come and I pump spurt after spurt right down into the gag hole, the spasming of your throat against the tip of my cock only adding to my pleasure.

When I pull out, you’re still choking and gagging, a thin trail of come and saliva trickling out of your mouth hole, your face a mess of tears and snot. But we have no mercy. Paul and I swap places and you’ve soon got another tasty, thick, hot cock to choke on.

Paul’s a randy bugger, but he’s been saving up for this, so his orgasm seems to go on for ages, and I don’t want to even _imagine_ how much spunk _he_ produces when he comes, again right down your open mouth hole. I’m a sadistic fucker, as you know, so once Paul’s finished jerking out the last of his come, I stuff the pants we cut off you earlier into the open gag.

"We wouldn't want you to waste any of that tasty come, Jimmy. You stay there and enjoy it while Paul and I grab ourselves a couple of beers. Don't worry, fucktoy, we'll be back soon to use your other hole very soon."

I lean down to kiss the tip of your nose, your face a picture again of rage and frustration. But the night is young, Jimmy. We've only just begun.


	5. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 2 of 9)

You’ve been lying on the bedroom floor for some time, able to wriggle, but not getting very far with your wrists and ankles still bound by the cable ties. All you have to show for your squirming about are carpet burns. You’ve also tried, repeatedly, to spit the shredded material of your pants out of the ring gag, where they’re keeping the double helping of come firmly in your mouth, without success. Frankly, you’re sick of the taste of it, the two brutal face fuckings seemingly having filled not only your mouth but your nose and sinuses with the flavour and smell of semen.

You can hear us, chatting and laughing, in the lounge, and the occasional chink of beer bottles. You wonder what we intend to do with you next. Your anger has abated to a dull ebb and, as loathe as you are to admit it, your treatment so far has produced a pooling of arousal in the pit of your stomach. You are a masochistic little fucker at times, after all, and being so thoroughly dominated by two big, strong blokes is quite a turn on, isn't it, Jimmy, despite your initial fury?

When we return to the bedroom, I can feel my prick twitching immediately at the sight of you bound on the floor, your big dark eyes wide with apprehension above the gag, your face still a mess of dried come and snot. To be honest, you look like a total fuckslut, and your moaning through your gag only serves to arouse us more.

Paul starts to strip, and I can see you looking at his body appraisingly. As I said, he’s slighter than me, but well-muscled and sinewy, and his skin is pale and creamy and covered with freckles, to match his auburn hair. He has the usual soldier’s scattered tattoos, and a few scars here and there and, when he removes his combats and underwear, you get a proper look at his prick. It’s long and thick, already beginning to swell, nestled in its thatch of auburn curls, complimented by the biggest pair of aesthetically symmetrical balls I've ever seen. Paul sits himself up against the headboard, getting himself comfortable against the pillows, and spreads his legs.

“Are you going to be a good boy this time, Jimmy?” I ask, and you nod. “Sure?” I say, “Because if you do anything stupid, we will really fucking hurt you. Not just fuck you, _hurt_ you, and not in a good way.”

I just love the way your pupils blow wide at my words, and a flush of arousal starts to creep down over your neck and chest. “I reckon our Jimmy’s decided to enjoy himself after all, Paul.”

“I thought as much. You can always tell ‘em a mile off. The ones that make the most fuss are always the ones who’re secretly gaggin’ to be used as fuckholes. I bet 'e'll cream 'imself when we fuck 'im proper.” Our Paul does have something of a way with words at times.

I lift you up on to the bed and remove the material from the gag, and you moan with relief. As I unbuckle the gag, I hold your jaw, twisting your face up to look at me. “You be a good boy, Jimmy, and me and Paul’ll make you scream, and in a good way, yeah, baby?”

I am amazed at the change in your attitude, as you rub your face against my palm and whisper, “Yes, Seb.”

“Good boy. So now you’re going to suck Paul off - _properly_ this time – and I’m going to fuck your arse while you’re doing it. I’m going to cut your ankle ties, and I want you on your knees with your arse in the air, and ready to bury your face in Paul’s crotch. And I want you to ask for it, _nicely_.”

I can see the conflicting emotions on your face as you take this in. It’s one thing to give yourself over to being used as a fucktoy by two other blokes, but it’s a whole different level to have to participate in your own humiliation by _asking_ for it. Which is why, of course, I want you to do it.

I arrange you over one of the bolsters so that you are kneeling up with your legs spread, your arse in the air, and your shoulders pressed to the bedcover, your face inches from Paul’s crotch. He’s stroking himself lightly, precome beading at the tip of his nearly erect cock, cupping his balls in his free hand.

“Go on, then, Jimmy. What do you want to do to Paul?”


	6. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 3 of 9)

“Go on, then, Jimmy. What do you want to do to Paul?”

“P – please may I suck your cock?"

Paul and I burst out laughing. "Put a bit of _conviction_ into it, cockslut. I want you sniffin' after me cock like you're a little piggy snufflin' for truffles, you dirty little fucker."

I love the way your eyes widen in surprise at Paul's words. No, he isn't going to make this easy, Jimmikins. He wants you to humiliate yourself, to grovel and beg. He's an ex-Army bod, after all, and the squaddies get this sort of thing all the time (not cock-sucking, duh - although no doubt a bit of that goes on), but motivational dialogue, as the NCOs would say.

"Please may I lick your cock? Please let me taste it, and put it in my mouth. Please let this cockslut suck it. Please."

Paul raises an eyebrow. "Please, _Sir_."

"Yes, cock piggy. You can snuffle out me cock."

I don't think I've ever seen something more _fucking_ made of utter sex and filth and cock-hardening _dirtyness_ than you humping yourself forward over the bolster to get your mouth around Paul's hugely swollen cock. He doesn't make it easy for you; he makes you stretch forward to get your tongue on the head of the glans, and you lick and slurp and suckle at the tip like it's the most sublime ice cream you've ever encountered.

"Snuffle, piggy. Sniff the cock out; it's your special, tasty treat, ain't it, cocklicker?"

Your snuffling and soft slurping noises go straight to my cock, and I'm even more turned on to see that your cock's also ramrod stiff against your thigh. Seems our little Jimmikins enjoys total humiliation. I store that one away for another day, like I didn't know it _already_. I grasp your balls, and twist, just enough to make you gasp and flinch. "Paul's told you what to do, _cunt_. Do it."

As Paul tilts his head back against the headboard, groaning as you lick and snuffle and suck, I start lubing your arsehole up, just enough so my cock can slide in without chafing. As for you, I don't care if it hurts _you_. You're our fucktoy today, and who cares if fucktoys are moaning in pain or pleasure?

When I hold your hips still, guiding the tip of my hugely swollen prick into your tight little pink pucker, you moan and try to squirm away. I nod to Paul, and he shoves his cock right down your throat as I sheath myself totally in your arse, my balls slapping at yours, wondering if I've torn your delicate little hole. You're totally filled at both ends, _spitroast_ , I think the term is.

Here, today, we don't give a fuck. We're going to fuck your throat and your arsehole as much as we want, and we don't give a shit whether little Jimmy's enjoying himself, or not. Your function is, simply, to be the warm, wet, hole-punctuated recipient of our semen. And, fuckin' hell, you're going to get a lot of it.


	7. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 4 of 9)

You feel so good around my cock - hot, and so deliciously tight, your muscles clenching involuntarily around me as Paul chokes you with his prick. But we don't want to wear you out too quickly; you get far more use out of a fucktoy in relatively good condition than you do out of a broken, bleeding one, after all. So I fuck you slowly, revelling in the sensation of your arsehole clamping and squeezing my cock tightly, and Paul pulls out and lets you pleasure him properly, suckling and licking and swallowing, moaning deep in your throat as you do so.

"'Ands," gasps Paul, "free 'is 'ands. Want 'im to touch me."

I flail around for a second, but knives are never far aware when we're playing, are they, Jimmy? I slice through the tie on your wrists and you grunt in relief as your hands fall free. Immediately, you're caressing Paul's balls and perineum, stroking and scratching lightly, Paul leaning back, eyes shut, mouth slightly open, his hands curled in your hair.

“Look at you Jimmy, on your knees, sucking cock like you were made for it. You’re just a filthy dirty cocksucking little slut, aren’t you, and you love it.” You moan as your prick jerks in reaction to my words, and Paul’s cock slips momentarily from between your lips. You rub your cheek against it, saliva and precome mingling with the blood and dried semen streaking your face. 

Before taking Paul back into your mouth, you moisten a couple of fingers and slide them underneath him, finding his hole and teasing at it, adding more saliva as you massage the tight muscle, opening him up. I grab the lube and squeeze a blob on to your fingers, and you start pushing into Paul in time with the sweeps of your lips and tongue up and down the length of his cock. Twisting your fingers you suddenly hit Paul inside on that sweet, sensitive spot that makes him groan even louder.

I growl into your ear, my voice dripping with filth. "That's it, darling, fondle his arsehole and his taint. He'll give you even more tasty come to swallow if you touch him like that." Your whine of excitement goes straight to my prick.

I pump you slowly, allowing you to concentrate on bringing Paul to orgasm, which he does with a shout, pulling out just as he climaxes and striping your face with thick, hot ropes of come. Panting, he tips your head back and I almost come on the spot - your face is just a mass of semen - the dried stuff from earlier, and now another faceful, dripping down your cheeks and nose and across your red, swollen lips.

Paul leans forward and claims your mouth in a punishing kiss, and then there's no sound in the room other than the wet, filthy sound of tongues and lips mashing together, Paul sucking at your skin, licking his come from your face and passing it to you with his tongue, you sucking greedily at it, passing the semen back and forth between you as you kiss each other as deeply as you can. Until your faces are both coated with come, streaks of it in Paul's beard and moustache, you licking and sucking it up and moaning into his mouth, tangling your hands in his hair as your devour each other.

“Fuck.” I groan. It’s just too erotic; the two of you totally lost in sucking each other’s faces off, essentially, and I can’t stop myself tipping over the edge with a shout, and shooting into you so hard I can’t believe it’s the second time I’ve come this evening. For a moment I can’t do anything but hold on to you, lost in ecstasy as my prick jerks and twitches inside you. Only when I am totally spent and you are filled to the point of leaking come past my softening cock do I pull out, and collapse back on to the pillows beside Paul.

“Your Daddy’s quite the comeslut, ain’t he? That was fuckin’ amazin’.”

I feel your eyes on us, crouched over the bolster, looking utterly debauched with your face wet and sticky with saliva and semen, and your prick still rock hard between your spread thighs, my come trickling down between them.

“What d’ya say then, Paul? Do you think the little slut deserves a reward?”

“Yeah, I’d say so, Sebs. You said we’d make ‘im scream. I reckon ‘e deserves it. Whatcha want to do?”

“No, mate, you’re the guest. You get first dibs on making the slut scream and cream himself.”

“Right. I’ll lick ‘im out then, Sebs. I ain’t ‘ad a taste of your come for a while mate and ‘e’s got such a tasty looking little arse on ‘im. Come ‘ere, slut and sit on my face.”

After a little thought, I arrange you so that you’re straddling Paul’s face, before rummaging in the bedside table to retrieve a rubber cockring. I give you one of my most charmingly sadistic smiles as I work it down over your swollen genitals. 

“ _Scream_ , remember, you dirty little cocklicker? That means you get teased until you’re begging, and then teased some more. A _lot_ more. Until you’re screaming, my love.”

Before I get comfortable straddling Paul in front of your bound cock and balls, I cuff your wrists behind you to the headboard. You’re already squirming as Paul begins to lick you out, even before I start to feather the lightest touches of breath over the tip of your cock. I briefly consider gagging you, but then decide that listening to you moan and beg will be far more fun. For us, anyway. For you, my darling, I’m not quite so sure.


	8. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 5 of 9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting far longer than I ever anticipated, so I may at some point spirit these five chapters (plus additions) off to a work of their own.
> 
> Anyway, this is a rather short, not particularly explicit, chapter, with rather more introspection on Seb's part. A calm before the storm. Possibly.

Once again, the bedroom's silent apart from the wet sounds of mouths on flesh. Paul is slurping noisily at your arsehole, moaning every so often in pleasure as another trickle of come runs out of you into his waiting mouth. I've forgotten how much Paul enjoys doing this; for a pretty much exclusively toppy bugger he loves rimming and licking out come-filled arses, on his own terms, of course. 

I smile at the memory of when we shared a mess, briefly, in Camp Bastion; 'Bastian in Bastion, as so many not very funny would-be wags remarked. How the two of us didn't die of dehydration and/or exhaustion is something of a mystery, given the amount of fucking we got up to. Other than you, Paul's my closest, most trusted - what - friend? Not sure about the whole "friend" thing. Do people like us have "friends"? Associate, perhaps. Fuck buddy - yep, but he's far more than that to me. I don't know. Let's call him the equivalent of what a friend is to normal people, and refrain from analysing the relationship any further than that.

Oh, and you'll be pissed off about the "fuck buddy" thing, won't you? I'm _your_ fucktoy normally, aren't I, Jimmy, and you don't like sharing your toys. If I didn't know you had sisters, I'd think you were an only child. But then, you are an only _boy_ and, in my experience, boys get spoiled and don't have to share their toys like their sisters do. You spoilt little fucker, you.

I'm in one of my nastiest, most tormenting moods and, for all you've behaved yourself admirably since the facefucking, I'm determined to come good on our promise to make you scream. So I lick delicately, blow warm breath across the tip of your cock and suck cold back, caress your balls and perineum as lightly as I can, and generally be a teasing bastard, giving you a little of what you want, but not anywhere near enough what you need.

Which of course sets you off bratting, moaning and wiggling your perfect little porcelain arse in Paul's face, which he loves, so I'm OK with that. But the bucking and whimpering and trying _so bloody hard_ to get your cock further into my mouth, and the grunts of displeasure as I pull back, denying you, again and again, I'm most certainly not OK with.

I pull back and sit up on my heels. "Jimmy. _James_. You're our fucktoy this evening, remember? So you just get what we give you, if you're lucky enough to get anything at all. _You_ don't get to set the pace. _You_ don't get to demand anything. You open your mouth and spread your legs when we tell you, and anything else we give you is a bonus. So stop fucking trying to set your own agenda, and be grateful you're getting anything at all, you little fucking comedump, OK?"

I'll never tire of the way your eyes go wide with surprise when I talk to you like this. All the weeks and months and years of being your plaything, the punishments you hand out so casually, when they're _so fucking excruciating_ , all of which I _love_ , as you know, my darling. All of them get channelled into an evening of me fucking you over every once in a while, like now, and by Christ I'm going to enjoy myself doing it.

I concentrate all of that into a few hours, and I concentrate it all on you. I think, sometimes, baby, you forget who I am. You know me, yes, of course. You know that I love you and will always be loyal to you and do whatever I can to ensure that whatever you want to make happen, happens. But you also know, my darling, my love, _the love of my life_ , you are - you know that, you cruel little cunt - my _everything_ , you know that I am as sick and twisted a sadistic bastard as you'll ever be. I _murder people_ for a living, for fuck's sake, as you don't like getting your hands dirty. How could I not be your equal, then, in in utter cunting bastarding fuckery?

So, stop your bratting and your whining and your _demanding_. You'll get what we choose to give you. And nothing more.


	9. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 6 of 9)

With a long sigh of satisfaction, Paul scoots out from under you. "Delicious, Seb, absolutely dee-lish. You're a lucky bloke. 'E's got an arse on 'im a lot of blokes'd give their right bollock for."

But you're looking furious again, and you rattle the cuffs against the headboard, your bound and, by now, rather prodigiously swollen cock swaying slightly between your legs. "Sebastian? Come on, tiger - please?"

"Jim? Something you want to ask us?"

"Oh, come _on_ , Sebastian. You've made your point. Just get me off and we can all have a lovely relaxing bath and, err, then whatever you want, darling. Only, just get me off first. Please. Pretty please?"

I look at Paul. "What do you think, mate?"

Paul smiles, cricking his neck and running his hand over his rather matted moustache and beard. "I think your Daddy's still got a bit too much cheek in 'im, Sebs. Yeah, sure, 'e's behaved 'imself a bit when 'e thinks 'e's gonna get something out of it, but what 'e just said? Takin' the piss, mate."

Poor Jim. Once again you're overpowered and made helpless by us, as we unlock the cuffs only long enough to re-attach them to the headboard as you're laid on your back and your legs are spread wide apart and secured to the bottom bed posts. All you can do is struggle and hump the air, unable to get any stimulation on your cock or balls, not even simply to squeeze your legs together. 

"You fucking bastards. Untie me _now_ , Moran, or so help me I will _skin_ you. I'll fucking flay you alive and make you into shoes and send them to fucking Mo fucking Farah and ask him to run them into the ground until they're in fucking tatters and then I'll incinerate the fucking remains, _Moran_! _Now_!"

We watch you, struggling and squirming helplessly, and Paul speaks, low but clear. "I've got a muzzle with me, Sebs. I didn't know whether we'd need it, but "be prepared" an' all that malarkey. I don't think you need to 'ear that sort of abuse, and I think your Daddy needs to learn that sluts with dirty mouths like that get kept muzzled unless their mouths're needed for suckin' cock or lickin' arse. What d'you think, Seb?" 

I lock my gaze with yours, ice blue against darkest black. "Get it."

-O-

Paul and I snog for ages in the shower, the blissfully hot water soaking away the assorted sweat, come, and blood smears, stroking and re-learning each other, but not trying to get each other off. We'll save that for you, darling. 

I wonder what you're thinking, spread out helpless on our bed, restrained and muzzled. I _love_ the muzzle - thick, dark leather wrapped around the whole of your lower face, from a heavy collar locked around your neck, up over your chin and around your cheeks, right to just below your nose, a large built-in ballgag filling your mouth, then thick leather straps around the back and over the top of your head. Rendering you totally incapable of speech and, in fact, unable to make any sound at all other than an unintelligible, muffled, sort of grunting.

After our shower, we're sitting in the lounge, drinking beer and some left over tapas bits from the fridge which I've heated up to a reasonable state of resurrection. Paul takes another chug of his beer.

"I tell you what you got there, mate. What you got's a pup in waiting. Fuck it, Seb, you know 'ow many fuckin' sluts I've trained up over the years. What 'e is at the moment is a pup who thinks 'e's a top dog. 'E thinks 'e's a Daddy, yeah - _your_ Daddy? 'E don't realise yet what 'e needs is an owner to train 'im up. A really _nasty_ one for a dirty little slut like 'im.

Look at what 'e did when I came all over 'im. 'E nearly sucked me fuckin' face off. I ain't been snogged like that in fuck knows 'ow long. 'E wants it, Seb, 'e wants to be taken in 'and. 'E wants to be a slut - it's what dirty little fuckers like 'im was born for."

"I don't know, Paul. It's always been this way with me and Jim. He's my boss, as well as anything else. Oh yeah, sure, we switch it up and down a fair bit, but - me as his top? I like it - oh, fuck, _yes_ , I _love_ it, but I don't think it would work for us on a permanent basis."

"Well, mate, you gotta do what you think's right. But invite your old mate Paul round when you want to take your Daddy down a peg or two next, alright?"

"Mate, Jim's ready for it now, tonight. He asked me, specifically, as my Daddy, to get him off. I think the little fucker could really do with a dose of Uncle Paul's special medicine, I really do. You're a far nastier fucker than me; you always have been, mate, ever since the Army. He'll anticipate what I'd do to him. You? A different kettle of fish altogether, mate."

"You sure, Sebs? You know what I do to pups who need trainin', dontcha?"

"Yes, Paul, I know. And I think my Jim'll love it."


	10. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 7 of 9)

We both smell it, as soon as we return to the bedroom. The unmistakeable acrid tang of piss. And there you are, your face white with humiliation, lying stretched out in a sulphurous yellow puddle of your own piss.

Paul wrinkles his nose at the sight of you. "You dirty little boy - you pissed yourself? Through a cockring an' all? Christ, you fuckin' stink."

You won't meet our eyes, lying there stiff and unmoving, humiliated beyond belief. "I reckon you're gonna need a new mattress, Seb. That one's fuckin' soaked."

For a moment, I am torn between releasing you from your restraints, taking you up in my arms, carrying you to the bathroom, and bathing you gently to wash alway all of the spunk, sweat, blood and, now, piss covering your body. But it is only a momentary hesitation.

"We'll take him through to the interrogation room, Paul - there's an examination table there." 

Despite your humiliation, you try to kick us as we release your ankles. I punch you once, hard, in the solar plexus, and you curl into yourself, gasping and retching. Once your wrists are released, we take one each and drag you through to the soundproofed, metal-lined room at the very back of our flat.

The room where we interrogate - well, that's a euphemism for torture, or fucking over, or killing in unbelievable agony, _really_ , isn't it, Jimmy? - anyone who's fucked _you_ over, betrayed you or, basically, just become something of a pain in the fucking arse. Many times we've been in this room, together, you and I: you pacing about as I use all of the nasty implements and techniques at my disposal to do what you want done, you standing back to avoid getting yourself _dirty_.

Although we've played _our_ dirty, sado-masochistic, sex games in here too, from time to time, we've always been broadly OK with what we're doing to each other, our blanket _consensual-non-consent_ covering anything we choose to inflict on the other. But, you've never been strapped down to the gyno table in this sort of situation, have you, Jimmy? Your ankles and calves strapped into the stirrups, which are then cranked oh-so-wide apart, the rest of your body strapped down equally securely, until you're only able to squirm the teensiest bit in any direction, and your arse is spread so wide we can count the individual dark hairs curling stickily around it.

 _Stickily_ because the come from my earlier orgasm, deep inside you, is now drying in opaque streaks and globs around your arsehole and, from the way your hole twitches and stutters, held so wide open, I'm reckoning it's starting to become uncomfortably itchy.

"You ever 'ad your arsehole shaved, Jim?" Paul stands over you, idly sharpening a rather fearsome-looking straight razor against an old fashioned barber's leather strop. "Lathered up and shaved, _properly_ , like in the old barber shops?"

Your stifled grunts and squirms would indicate that no, you probably _haven't_ ever had that pleasure. Paul's eyes light up as he reaches for the shaving mug, full of soap suds, and the large, old fashioned, shaving brush. "I bet you ain't even seen a pair o' these, either, slut, eh?" Paul brandishes the lathered up brush in front of your face, before slathering the suds all over your stretched open arse, ensuring that he covers every square millimetre thoroughly.

He hums to himself as he spreads the soap over your perineum, your balls and, then, perhaps most humiliatingly, over the pubic hair surrounding your cock.

"You're gonna be a smooth little boy after this, eh, Jimmikins?" I taunt. "Ready to be whored out to our dirtiest, _nastiest_ customers, right, Paul? The sleazy, pervy twats who come looking for smooth, fresh slutlets like you'll have a fucking fuckfest with our pretty little Jimmikins."

All you can do, as the straight razor edges nearer to your arsehole, is keen and squirm. And wait.


	11. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 8 of 9)

The first rasp of the razor's edge, in a smooth sweep from the swollen pucker around your arsehole, across your arsecheek, is probably the most difficult for you to bear. Although you can't make any meaningful sounds from behind the muzzle, the fluttering of your eyelids, in that weird way you have with you, and the total stillness and stiffness of your body, speak volumes.

Paul works methodically - rasp, sweep, rinse, rasp, sweep, rinse - until your arse is revealed in all its smooth, creamy, porcelain magnificence. You truly are exquisite, my sweet Jimmy and, for a moment, I am quite transfixed to total stillness, contemplating the beauty laid out before me. My Boss. My lover. My partner. Just as I am yours, utterly, absolutely, so you are mine, James Moriarty, tied to me despite your very, _very_ best efforts, unalterably, inviolably, just as I am to you.

When Paul continues his ministrations up over your balls and around your - now - impressively livid-hued, swollen cock, your eyes burn into mine above your muzzle. Surely, Jimmy, you don't think that I'd let him incapacitate you, maim you, _geld_ you, do you? Ha - that's where our strange love/hate, trust/doubt, consent/fuck you! relationship is so fucking wild, isn't it, Jimmy? Because you are pretty much sure that I won't do anything like that to you, but not quite 100% on it, just as I endure your casual sadism and punishment never quite knowing if I'll be able to walk away from it afterwards.

It's what makes us who and what we are, Jims, isn't it, and neither of us would ever want to be without it.

But - no - I let Paul shave you totally smooth, totally _bare_ , like a little boy - a humiliation in itself, of course, but there's the added bonus too of knowing how fucking itchy it'll be once your pubes start growing back; I look forward to our imminent client meetings, where you can't stop scratching at your groin.

Paul puts the razor to one side and I kiss him, passionately. Restraining you and dominating you and fucking _humiliating_ you have fired us both right up again, and we're ready to fuck you into the floor.

"Jimmy. _Darling_. I want to be able to release you from this contraption, and take you back into the bedroom - it's all cleaned up, baby - and Paul and I'll fuck you one last time, and then you can come, yeah? Then we'll both give you a long, hot bath, clean you up, and we can all curl up together for a bloody good sleep.

But, love, you need to be good. We may hurt you a bit more, and you have to be good with that? If you can be, then I'll take the muzzle off so you can scream when we make you come, OK?"

It's hard to read the expression in your eyes. There's still a spark of anger, but there's also tiredness - resignation? Have you realised finally that you are at the mercy of two fucking big, fucking strong blokes, and for all your fearsome reputation, here, with us, you're just a man, and a smaller, weaker man at that?

But there's also a hunger. Lust. Orgasm delayed, frustrated, _denied_ , love. And we might decide that denial and frustration are to be your lot for a very long time. So, anger tempered by need and pragmatism, you nod.


	12. Sebastian's Soliloquy (Part 9 of 9)

We unstrap you, ready to deal with any kicking or lashing out on your part, but somewhat surprisingly you're as good as gold. I fasten your wrists behind your back with a pair of leather cuffs and clip a leash to the muzzle's collar. Your head dipped slightly, submissively, you follow me meekly back though to the bedroom, your swollen cock swaying in front of you as you walk. 

Once in the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed and indicate to you that I want you over my lap. It's so very gratifying to see how obedient and willing you are, as you eagerly drape yourself over my lap, your shaved arse canted upwards, ready for my ministrations.

I bring my hand down with a loud crack! on your arse, the vivid handprint fading slightly to a raised reddish mark, then, as I repeat this, over and over again, your arse turns from a perfect creamy white to a shell pink, to a crimson red, to a livid purple. You twist and writhe and grunt and, eventually, sob, as I hit you again and again, savouring every impact of my hand upon your flesh, and every muffled gasp and groan wrung from you.

"You little slut. You're delicious like this." I squeeze a handful of plump, juicy, arse flesh, prompting more grunts and squirming from you. "Paul, pass me the lube, mate."

I squeeze a large dollop on to the crack of your arse, enjoying your little shiver as the cold lube hits your flaming skin. I begin to work it well into your arsehole; you're still pretty loose from your earlier fucking, but I need you very well prepared for what I intend to do next. 

Once I've worked three fingers into you, twisting and bending them, brushing your prostate, you're squirming again, trying to get some friction on your bound cock, at the same time wincing when you do. I imagine that it must be getting all rather too sensitive down there, given how long you've been erect. "Not much longer, baby," I croon, "I'll let you come, but only when I'm ready."

While I'm finished stretching you, your arse swollen and starting to gape wetly, I remove your cuffs, as Paul arranges himself against the headboard, leaning back against the pillows with his legs splayed open, stroking himself to full hardness. "I want you to sit on Paul's prick, Jimmy, facing me. Go on - impale yourself on his nice big cock."

You crawl quickly across to Paul and straddle him, your eyes never leaving mine. Slowly, you lower yourself on to Paul's prick, frowning slightly as you concentrate on relaxing so that you can sink right down on to him. "Good boy - well done. Now fuck yourself on him."

As you begin to ride Paul, I reach across and at last remove the hated muzzle. You exhale in relief, working your jaw and licking your lips. "Thank you."

"Oh, Jimmy, _baby_." I can't resist you; I want to taste you. My mouth is on yours and I'm raping your throat with my tongue, as I run my nails up and down your body, catching at your nipples and scoring long red weals down your thighs. Working my way along your jawline and down your throat, I suck and bite at you, marking you, reveling in the taste of your skin - a mixture of the stink of sex and sweat and splashed semen. You taste exquisite and I am almost unable to pull myself away from you.

But I want you now, too, Jimmy. I want to feel my cock hard up against Paul's, two thick uncut cocks up your arse, you stuffed so full of cock you feel you're going to tear open. I lube my prick up liberally, as you bounce energetically on Paul's cock like the little whore you are, your eyes never leaving my prick.

"Lean back, baby, brace yourself against Paul." Paul groans as you shift position, sinking even further down on to him, as I line the head of my cock up at the front of your hole, pushing in to you, concentrating on not forcing myself in too quickly. Fuck, you're so tight like this, so stretched and hot and wet, and I can feel Paul's cock pulsing against mine as I inch in. I have to pinch the base of my prick to stop myself tipping over the edge and flooding you with come immediately.

The sounds from your mouth are just pornographic. Filthy. "Jimmy, I want you riding us, and I want you making those dirty, _filthy_ , fucking noises as we fuck you. If you want to come, you've got to moan; you have to make _a lot_ of noise, because Paul and I want to hear how much you want to be double-fucked, how much you love your slutty little cunthole being stretched out. How much you like being our fuckslut, being _used_ , being filled up with cock."

"Mmmm, Sebby, Sir! Please! Please!" You trail off into loud moans as you bounce on the two cocks filling you, the wet, squelching noises of your penetration obscenely loud in our bedroom.

"Please, what, sluthole?" I begin ramming up into your arse, biting at your neck and chest again as I do so.

"Please. Sir. Take it off. Please. Let me come. Please. Make me _scream_."

"Not yet, baby. Soon."

I glance over your shoulder at Paul; he's on the edge, ready to fill your slutty stretched out arsehole with another thick, hot load. His head is tipped back, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, panting with excitement, the muscles in his neck corded and flexing below the sex-flushed skin. I can see that he's close, his fingers gripping your hips bruisingly as he slams you down on to our cocks. With a loud, harsh, cry, he comes, and I gasp at the sensation of his hot semen against the head of my prick as he fills you up, his cock shuddering hard and slippery against mine.

"Oh, God, Sebastian, _Sir_ , _please!_ Let me come!" Your pleas are more wails or sobs and so, at last, I decide to be merciful. 

"You want to come, baby, yeah? So ask me for it nicely, slutlet."

"Please, Sir, please, I _am_ a dirty cockslut, and I want to come stuffed full with two big, thick, hot cocks up my arse. Please, Sir. Please. Look, I'm riding you, I'm fucking myself on you. I need your cock in me, as much as you can give me. _Please!_ " 

I'm nearly there myself, now, after that, so I quickly remove the cockring and give your painfully swollen prick a couple of squeezes, the wet slap of skin on skin improbably loud as you fuck yourself with increasing urgency on my cock. And Christ, Jimmy, your sudden _scream_ of release is enough to make me very thankful that we occupy the penthouse flat and that we have no neighbours below or beside us. Your long, ululating cry of utter wantonness gradually fades away to hoarse groans and gasps as your arse continues to convulse around our still hard cocks. 

At last you are totally spent, limp and exhausted, only kept upright by still being mounted on us. Gently, Paul pulls out of you with a filthy, quite pornographic squelch, and I follow suit, as a trail of come begins to slowly trickle out of your raw, swollen hole, down your thighs and on to the bedcover.

We carry you to the bathroom, share a long, hot, scented bath, and cleanse you gently, washing and conditioning your hair, then wrap you up snugly in warm, soft towels, before carrying you back to the bedroom and placing you between us in the yet again freshly changed bed. I kiss you gently, almost chastely, our passion for now quite spent, as Paul rubs some soothing, cool ointment into your sore arsehole and buttocks.

And then, quite exhausted, cocooned in a warm tangle of limbs, we sleep.


End file.
